AJ

“When Nature made her chief work, Stella’s eyes, In colour black why wrapp’d she beams so bright? Would she in beamy black, like painter wise, Frame daintiest lustre, mix’d of shades and light? Or did she else that sober hue devise, In object best to knit and strength our sight, Lest if no veil those brave gleams did disguise, They sun-like should more dazzle than delight? Or would she her miraculous power show, That whereas black seems Beauty’s contrary, She even in black doth make all beauties flow? Both so and thus, she minding Love should be Placed ever there, gave him this mourning weed, To honour all their deaths, who for her bleed.”
― Philip Sidney, Astrophil and Stella

“When you will not fly into a passion people know you are stronger than they are, because you are strong enough to hold in your rage, and they are not, and they say stupid things they wish they hadn’t said afterward. There’s nothing so strong as rage, except what makes you hold it in—that’s stronger.”
― Frances Hodgson Burnett, A Little Princess

“When I was forc’d from Stella, ever dear Stella, food of my thoughts, heart of my heart; Stella, whose eyes make all my tempests clear, By iron laws of duty to depart: Alas I found that she with me did smart; I saw that tears did in her eyes appear; I saw that sighs her sweetest lips did part, And her sad words my saddest sense did hear. For me, I wept to see pearls scatter’d so; I sigh’d her sighs, and wailed for her woe, Yet swam in joy, such love in her was seen. Thus, while th’effect most bitter was to me, And nothing than the cause more sweet could be, I had been vex’d, if vex’d I had not been.”
― Philip Sidney, Astrophil and Stella

“What may words say, or what may words not say, Where truth itself must speak like flattery? Within what bounds can one his liking stay, Where Nature doth with infinite agree? What Nestor’s counsel can my flames allay, Since Reason’s self doth blow the coal in me? And ah what hope, that hope should once see day, Where Cupid is sworn page to Chastity? Honour is honour’d, that thou dost possess Him as thy slave, and now long needy Fame Doth even grow rich, naming my Stella’s name. Wit learns in thee perfection to express, Not thou by praise, but praise in thee is rais’d: It is a praise to praise, when thou art prais’d.”
― Philip Sidney, Astrophil and Stella